


The Starfish Thrower

by saturnslover



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cute, Gen, M/M, Starfish - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnslover/pseuds/saturnslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A more modern variation of how Courfeyrac and Jehan first met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Starfish Thrower

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Starfish Thrower](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/71415) by Loren Eisley. 



> Heard the original story a while back and couldn't resist turning it into a cute little Courfeyrac/Jehan thing. I originally published this on Fanfiction.net under the penname Trust Gavroche, so I didn't blatantly plagiarize it from there. Enjoy :]

It was a day like any other day on the beach. The wind, tinted with the lingering smell of salt, blew in a cool frenzy across the creamy-colored sand. Tiny grains were lifted up and danced in the wind, biting bare legs. The sun was beating down on the long strip of land at the sea, and it made a pleasant contrast with the brisk breeze. The soothing crash of the salty waves upon the shore was definitely a background noise, but without it nothing would seem the same. If the beach was a soundtrack, a key piece would be the cawing of the seagulls, dipping in and out of the wind. It was a beach day like any other, except for one thing. Hundreds and hundreds of starfish were scattered across the soft sand. Their colors ranged from a dark purpleish to a bright orange, and they were stranded.

Jean Prouvaire, nicknamed Jehan, had taken walks on the beach for as long as he could remember. Every day at eight o'clock in the morning, before the heat got too unbearable, he would swing his hunter-green canvas message bag over his shoulder and set out. Barefoot and usually with poetry supplies in his hand, he would walk for hours along the sandy shores.

Today was different, however. Jehan had set out on his walk at the normal time and had arrived at the beach only to find the starfish scattered everywhere. Only a few feet inland were not dotted with the colorful animals. Jehan was shocked. How could something like this happened? What had caused this mass beaching? Everyone has heard of whales and dolphins beaching, but starfish?

Almost as if by instinct, he reached down and picked a yellowish one one up. It felt kind of prickly, but also smushy, and wriggled feebly in his hand. He stared at it for a minute, then carefully picked his way down to where the waves were crashing and gently tossed the starfish about fifteen feet out. There, he thought, smiling to himself. You're free again.

He continued like this for a good half hour or so, scooping up one or two beached starfish at a time and tossing them back where they belonged.

The beach was a rather pleasant place to spend a portion of your life, however small it may be, and so it happened that Jean Prouvaire and the starfish were not the only ones enjoying it.

As Jehan was throwing the starfish back into the ocean, another man was watching him from where he sat on a piece of driftwood. The man watched with interest, and when Jehan paused his actions to take a rest, the man made his way over to him.

"Hello, I am Courfeyrac. What are you doing?"

Jehan looked up at the man. He was about the same height and looked around the same age as himself. A mop of curly black hair sat upon his head, and his green eyes looked harsh but also sparkled with curiosity.

Jehan blushed a little under the man's stare and answered, "Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The tide is going out and if someone doesn't throw them back, they'll die."

Courfeyrac laughed a little. "Don't you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can't make any difference!"

Jehan listened politely, his hazel eyes burning a hole in the warm sand. When the man had finished, he bent down and picked up one of the starfish and threw it into the surf. He glanced back up at Courfeyrac and smiled. "Made a difference to that one."


End file.
